


Even the Losers (Get Lucky Sometimes)

by alyxpoe



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Cuddling, Douglas loves Martin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Martin gets to be a hero, Martin loves aeroplanes, sensless violence, wine and hot tubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyxpoe/pseuds/alyxpoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peaceful date gets interrupted and Douglas learns the depths of his own heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even the Losers (Get Lucky Sometimes)

_Loving someone does not mean that you are blind to their faults. Rather, love, by its very definition, means that you know and accept them for who they are: warts and all. Once your heart decides it is going to open up and let someone else in, you often find that some of those things you first viewed as faults now become endearing parts of what makes up the other person._

*

 

> _“Baby, even the losers_  
>  _Get lucky sometimes_  
>  _Even the losers_  
>  _Keep a little bit of pride_ ”
> 
> © Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers

Douglas watches Martin closely, allowing his thoughts to wax towards the poetic side of life as the younger man climbs into the open cockpit of some glossy olive-coloured WWI-era bi-plane set up as a static display outside the museum they are currently visiting. It really does not hurt that he is wearing Douglas’ favorite dark indigo jeans, the ones that set off his rather fortunately-shaped derriere. Martin swings his left leg over the panel and soon just the top of his fiery head is visible from where Douglas stands. For a few seconds, Douglas wonders if even he has been forgotten as Martin stills and takes in the vintage aircraft all around him the way some men settle into a finely-tailored suit jacket.

The sky above is pristine and clear, the sun warm on his back where the first officer stands pretending to read the specs placard. Martin is far more interesting. Douglas loves flying and he enjoys the occasional conversation about historical planes, but his passion for it all certainly never reaches the heights of wonderment that the subject rouses in Martin.

That is not to say that Douglas is bored of the whole thing, in fact, quite the contrary is true. As he gets to watch Martin in his seemingly second-most natural environment other than behind the yoke of a feisty old jet, Douglas is gifted with observing a quite thoroughly happy Crieff—surely just as he was at about age fourteen. As Martin sets his elegant hands on the steering column of the old Sopwith, Douglas fights the sudden ridiculous urge to _be_ the aeroplane.

Something in his expression draws Martin’s attention away from the relatively simplistic instrument panel and Douglas looks up into bottle-green eyes, taking in the slight frown on the younger man’s face and smiles. Martin beams back at him and Douglas feels for an instant like he is standing in a spotlight; a little thrill races down his spine at being a very important part of such a wonderful person’s life. He wonders if he is ever going to get used to this feeling.

Still smiling, Martin turns back to the instrument panel, such as it is, and Douglas continues watching Martin play. It is times like these that the twenty-three year difference between their ages takes on a different quality: Douglas gave up on any type of play that did not involve some sort of mating dance long before he decided that his second home was going to be the sky. On the other hand, Martin desperately wanted to be an aeroplane, but then decided that due to lack of the proper biology, an airline pilot was the next best thing.

Douglas knows Martin is talking about the Sopwith Camel because his lips are moving, though the sound of his voice is drowned out because Douglas cannot focus on anything other than those emerald eyes and a smiling face lightly dusted with freckles and skin slowly pinking up from the sun.

After a while, Douglas moves away from the Sopwith and down the line, enjoying the soft babble of the crowd around him that barely makes an impression on his consciousness, being as it is more concerned with a boyishly exuberant airdot captain who has just come up next to Douglas and snakes an arm across Douglas’ waist so that his right hand rests on Douglas’ hip.

           “Thank you,” Martin says quietly as Douglas leads them towards one of the benches set out at regular intervals along the pathways that wind between the static displays of planes and other flying accouterments.

            “You are so very welcome, Martin.” Douglas pulls the younger man closer to him, enjoying the blush that decorates his fair skin as much as he has everything else today.

Martin drops his head onto Douglas’ shoulder and they remain that way for a few moments, casually watching museum visitors pass them by headed out to the displays or towards the museum. Really, though, neither man pays much attention to the people milling about because both of them are hyper aware of each other. Martin is completely relaxed at Douglas’ side, their breathing in sync. Douglas fiddles with the empty belt loops on Martin’s jeans.

            “Martin, I know where I can find a very lonely hot tub.” Douglas catches himself actually nuzzling at Martin’s ear, pauses, then inwardly shrugs and continues doing it.

Martin scrunches his nose and shivers against the feeling of warm breath against his ear. “Second-best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Douglas chuckles and Martin pulls back in order to look him in the face. “What was the first one?”

Martin grins and catches his bottom lip in his teeth. He shakes his head.

            “Oh now, come on, enlighten me Captain, my Captain.” Douglas teases, slowly tracing the left side of Martin’s jaw with his fingers and feeling the skin heat up as he goes.

For a second Martin seems unsure, however, the fond expression on Douglas’ face gives him courage. “Well, coming here,” he answers with another small grin.

Douglas laughs out loud this time then wraps his arms around Martin and hauls him in close. They share a chaste kiss and ignore the onlookers. “Let’s go. We still have two more days and that hot tub has my name on it.”

Martin nods and they head out towards the parking lot, the sun’s rays at a slant now, throwing shadows across the asphalt. Douglas grabs the door of the passenger side of their rented car before Martin is able and throws it open, gestures towards the grey interior. Martin shakes his head and rolls his eyes but gets in anyway. He watches Douglas cross in front, taking in the older man’s smile as he opens the other door and slides in behind the wheel. He puts the key in the ignition, the CD player kicks on and it is right about there that things begin to fall apart.

Without any warning, Douglas is forcibly yanked right back out of the car. He hits the ground with a thud before Martin can even react, whoever was strong enough to pull the first officer from the vehicle has their hands around Martin’s waist and he soon finds himself on his face on the asphalt.

Martin can think of nothing except Douglas, even with the weight of a heavy boot between his shoulder blades. The man holding Martin down is yelling across the parking lot at another man, the words indistinguishable to Martin’s ears over the music playing on the stereo in the car and the pounding of his own heartbeat.

*

Much later, Martin will overhear a conversation between Douglas and a steward from another airline. He will hear Douglas say: _You must understand that Captain Crieff is by no means a stupid man, even if he does come across both pompous and shy at the same time. Not only does he have brains in his head, he is stubborn as all hell and when there is something on his mind, the man worries it like a dog with a bone. Martin may seem a bit anal-retentive where the rules are concerned and a bit of nag, but honestly, Harry, when it comes down to it, he’s got what it takes where it counts…we have to remember that if it wasn’t for pressure, there would be no diamonds._ Douglas will say all of this with a cocky tilt to his head in a tone of voice that says young-man-take-my-wisdom-it-is-free.

Martin will shake his head and finally step up to the table in the café where Douglas sits with his friend. Douglas will reach over and pull Martin closer by the belt loops on his uniform trousers, he will look up at Martin and preen. Douglas will give a big grin to Harry and in that smile will be _can you believe that_ this _is all mine_?

But all that will happen later, perhaps a week or a month down the road. Right now, Martin’s mind is calming his body and forcing him to consider each and every scenario that ends with him and Douglas getting out of this situation in the most intact condition possible.

*

The hot tub is even more exquisite than Douglas promised. Martin has his arms stretched out across the wooden sides, his head tilted back; he feels like is floating on nothing. Douglas pads up behind him and sets a bottle of wine beside him, casually uncorking it and pouring into a glass in his other hand. He leans over Martin’s face and kisses him, then turns away to carry the bottle away from the hot water. When he returns, he is carrying another wine glass, this one filled with the sparkling grape juice they picked up on their way over from the museum.

Martin rolls his head forward and opens his eyes in time to see his first officer drop the white satin robe from his body to the floor where it puddles at his feet. Martin raises an eyebrow as he takes in the sight of an older man who has mostly always cared for himself; if there is a little padding around his middle and greying chest hair, those are a mark of maturity, in Martin’s eyes.

“Martin, you were exquisite out there today,” Douglas tells him as he lifts his glass in a salute to his partner.

Martin blushes, the red color washing over him from his hairline to his chest. He shakes his head back and forth, his eyes carefully watching the water, even as he sips his wine.

“No, Douglas, I really wasn’t. I was t…t… terrified….”Martin stammers.

Now Douglas shakes his head and slides over closer to the captain, resting his empty hand on Martin’s leg. “You were amazing. I couldn’t have handled it better.”

Martin snorts, keeping his eyes downcast, unable to meet Douglas’ expression; the pride that the captain can feel radiating from his partner feels wrong, somehow.

“Martin, look at me.”

Martin hears the clink of Douglas’ glass being set against the tiles. He sighs and tries hard to meet Douglas’ gaze.

“Douglas, you…you know,” he holds up his hand when Douglas opens his mouth.

Douglas waits.

“This…it isn’t me. Remember? I’m the stuck-up airdot captain who had to retake the damn test _seven_ times to get my pilot’s license.” He gestures between them, letting his fingers drag against the surface of the water so that it splashes upward.

Douglas notes the clear water droplets that cling to Martin’s ginger curls and thinks it is one of the most beautiful sights he has ever seen. Martin chooses that moment to finally tear his eyes from the water.

“And, that, _that_ …right there…you look at me like _that_ , and honestly, Douglas it terrifies me.” He casts his eyes downward again, this time into his wine glass. “All of this,” he mumbles practically to himself, “this…it isn’t _me_.”

Douglas is forced to lean towards Martin. He sighs and turns so that he can lean the younger man against his chest. Martin remains stiff but allows himself to be moved.

If it were anyone else, Douglas would probably make a joke, but this is serious and he wants Martin to understand.

“Tell me what happened, Martin. Your words, I won’t interrupt. I will just listen, promise.” He rests his hand against Martin’s bare hip. “Scouts’ Honor.” Douglas adds, almost an afterthought and when he feels Martin relax a little against him, he knows he has done the right thing.

“Are you sure?” Martin asks in a nervous voice, practically a shade of what it was several hours ago.

“Yes. Let’s talk it through and maybe you will see what I see.” Douglas agrees firmly.

Martin swallow against a throat suddenly gone dry. “Okay,” he says. The knowledge that Douglas would never leave him astray over something so serious gives him the courage to relive it all for the third time that day. Even though he is as naked as the day he came into the world, the taste of the wine, the steam off the water and the strong arm around his hips all work together to tell him that he is safe. Martin takes a fortifying breath.

“I could tell the man holding me down was unarmed because his foot would shake with every move of his hands. He was using his hands to gesture towards his accomplice as he was shouting at him.

I couldn’t see you enough to know if you had been hurt, Douglas. I think that was the worst of it. Every time I tried to raise my head, the man would grind his foot down and remind me that I was pinned. Strangely, the only other thing going through my head besides you was that my good shirt was being ruined…not the fact that this man most likely was bigger and stronger than me. Just the damned shirt. “

Martin seems to come out of a daze a bit. He sips his wine.

“Apparently his partner was not moving fast enough because the weight of him was gone but I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head. He must have cuffed me good, because I did see stars but it did not knock me out as I am fairly certain was the point behind it.”

Here Martin rubs the back of his head tenderly. Douglas pries his hand away and holds it in his own. “Go on, you are doing well,” he urges.

Martin stares at the cream colored backsplash on the wall for a moment before continuing. Douglas knows that his partner is not actually seeing it. As before, he waits.

The captain pulls his hand away in order to scratch at his five o’clock shadow. “Anyway, he stopped right in front of me. That’s when the most logical choice presented itself: if I took him down, maybe I could get to you and get you into the car and we could get out of there.

So I pushed up off the pavement and crawled for a couple of paces. I reached up and grabbed him around the knees and he fell forward, hitting his head and blacking out. He was wearing desert fatigues and black boots, and I remember thinking that was a really strange combination, until I turned him over and saw that he had on one of those face masks, like you can buy to wear in the winter to protect your face from the icy wind. You know.”

Behind him, Douglas nods and rests his head between Martin’s shoulders, placing a soft kiss there before laying his head flat against the flushed skin; he places his palm against Martin’s chest, feeling the vibrations in the muscles as he speaks.

“It was all so surreal. Here I was, having knocked this idiot down and all I am concerned about is his face mask. Everything was moving like the air was frozen, so I guess it was appropriate. Anyway, when I was sure he was down for the count, I turned toward you. Except I couldn’t move because the second man was there and he had a gun.

A gun, Douglas. A big, fucking gun.”

Martin begins to shake. Douglas knows that sometimes when people are in life-threatening situations, they do fine until _after_ the fact; the first officer remembers another time in a similar situation where the danger wasn’t just to the two of them, but the entire MJN crew.

“Wait here.” Douglas tells Martin as he gets out of the hot tub; he moves quickly so that Martin doesn’t feel like he needs to say anything else for a few minutes.

When he returns with a big, soft towel, he urges Martin to stand and wraps him up, carefully guiding him out of the water. Douglas dries him off and then wraps him up again, this time in one of the hotel’s complimentary dressing gowns. Wordlessly, he guides the captain towards the bed so that he can sit with his back to the headboard.

Martin changes the game plan a little, though, because instead of sitting next to Douglas, he slides down until his head is pillowed on Douglas’ thigh. It is okay, though, because it gives the first officer the freedom to card his fingers through Martin’s curls. Douglas allows him to settle down.

“Martin, you need to tell me the rest.”

Against his leg, Martin nods. “I told you the second man had a gun?”

“Yes.” Douglas answers.

“Right….I….I…” Martin snaps his jaw shut, annoyed that the stutter seems to be trying to make a comeback. He closes his eyes and counts three breaths.

“Everything kind of slowed down, Douglas.” Martin runs his hand down Douglas leg, hooking his fingers around Douglas’ knee.

Douglas wonders if Martin is even aware of the way he has just anchored himself to the older man as he patiently waits. After a time, Douglas begins to think that Martin has drifted off.

“It was like moving through syrup. I could see his hard blue eyes looking at me through a mask like the other man was wearing. He was going to kill me, I was sure. Right then, you moved, coming to. Something inside me told me that I needed to keep his attention on me, so I reached out for the gun…

I can see my hands so clearly, and I can see the surprise on his face. I’m not sure what I did, but I could feel a solid thump against my elbow and then he was on the ground and the gun was in my hand and I was looking at it and thinking _I don’t know what to do with this_ and then the first guy is next to me and he’s not very happy and I remember that I don’t know how to shoot but that the damn thing is heavy…and so I swung it at him.

Douglas, the next thing….the next thing…and you are standing there, and Tom Petty is blasting out of the speakers of the car and I can hear the same line over and over _Even the losers…get lucky sometime_ …and th…then there’s a paramedic and an officer and they are all talking to me at once and all I want to do is get to you, but they are holding you back and I’m really scared, Douglas, really scared. It wasn’t like Saint Petersburg, because you were _beside_ me, you’ve got to understand that, really understand it…because this time, I was still protecting you, but you weren’t there to…to…”

Martin frowns against the stammering. “Dammit!” He shouts and sits up so fast that Douglas has to jerk his head out of the way to avoid being chinned. They face each other, Martin gasping for air like he has just run a marathon, his face now streaked with tears; Douglas, however, is calm personified.

Martin finally breaks. He hangs his head and sobs. Douglas reaches out to him and folds the younger man into his arms. “Shhh,” he says and mumbles sweet nothings into his partner’s ear. Martin slowly begins to calm.

“Martin, I was there. I was _right_ there. I was already standing by the time you’d gotten your hand on that gun. I couldn’t move. I wish you could’ve seen yourself…it was something else.” Douglas rubs his chin against the top of Martin’s head as he thinks it all over. “Martin, you aren’t a loser. Not by any stretch of the imagination.”

Martin sniffs and nods and backs out of Douglas’ embrace. They gaze at each other. “I don’t remember anything after that. It’s all a blur.”

Douglas chuckles and breaks the tension in the room. “You missed the most boring part of all of it, then. They took us into the security office and questioned us as to what happened.”

“Oh god. I’m going to….” Martin’s face falls.

Douglas holds up a hand. “No, Martin, there were witnesses everywhere. I’m not sure why you don’t remember it, but as soon as you disarmed the crook, visitors and museum employees alike came out of the woodwork to tell what they had just witnessed. There were no charges filed against you.”

“That’s good, then.” Martin settles heavily against Douglas, his head on the first officer’s shoulder as Douglas stretches out on the bed. He is quiet for a few more minutes. “What were those guys doing anyway?”

“They had planned on stealing a car and turning it into a bomb.” Douglas states.

“Oh my god.”

“Quite.”

Martin does not hear it, though; because he is already sound asleep. Douglas grabs the television remote off the nightstand and clicks it on, a little burst of pride when the first thing he sees is a news story about what happened at the museum. He embraces the sleeping man, kisses the top of his head and whispers, “Martin, love, you are no loser. After all, Old Skygods such as myself wouldn’t pick one. When you have a chance to really process this, I think you are going to surprise yourself.”

Against Douglas’ chest, Martin smiles. “I love you, too.”

Douglas tightens his hold on Martin in return and finally feels all of the tension from the day leave his lean body. When the news begins again, he switches off the telly and pulls up the duvet, prepared to hold onto the captain all night if he has to, because, seriously, what else can he do? He now owes Martin his life twice over. All he has to give is himself, and if that’s what it will take to finally make Martin see how much he means to him—and not just him, either, to Carolyn and Arthur and surely to Herc, too; then he is willing to go the distance.

In that instant, Douglas can see being with Martin the rest of his life, and that image is not frightening or disorienting in the least. In fact, Douglas thinks it’s the best decision he has ever made in his life…in fact, if he is honest with himself, he was as surprised by Martin’s actions today as the captain is. And if he is just beginning to scratch the surface of everything that Martin _is,_ he will happily spend the rest of his life gazing into those depthless green eyes and holding that amazing heart in his hands.


End file.
